


Detention: Summer

by morganoconner



Series: Detention [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 04:50:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14993177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganoconner/pseuds/morganoconner
Summary: At the end of his junior year, Dean Winchester left Gabriel with a single kiss and a mountain of guilt. He thought he'd have the summer to recover and get over it, but events conspire against him. As usual.(The continuation of a surprisingly innocent student/teacher AU.)





	Detention: Summer

**Author's Note:**

> So, uh. I recently got the hankering to write some Supernatural fic, and I thought, _Self, you better ride the hell out of that shit while you can_. And so I did.
> 
> The first 2000 words of this have been sitting in my WIP folder since early 2012. The last 7500 were written this week. Which, if nothing else, I guess proves that it's never too late? PLEASE ALLOW ME TO BE AN INSPIRATION TO ALL OF YOU.

Through the entire month of June, Gabriel avoids every single person he knows like the plague. As though if one of them sees him, they'll know. Like they'll be able to see it written across his skin in neon glitter.

_Dean Winchester kissed me._

And oh, if only that were the worst part. Because at least then he would feel ashamed, but there wouldn't be this overpowering guilt every time he looked in the mirror. Because the words that would be written right after those first ones are,

_And I think I kissed him back._

He did. Gabriel knows he did, even if he can't quite remember anything past the shock of the moment, that first touch of Dean's mouth. He knows he did because he'd been wanting to for months. Months of pretending, months of _ignoring_ , but he knows he wouldn't have passed up that opportunity when it was dropped so enticingly into his lap.

Let's be honest here, Gabriel is not that good of a person.

So what is he supposed to do here? Confess? Yeah, right. Ignore it, like it never happened? He's tried that. He's pretty sure he'd have an easier time ignoring an elephant tap-dancing its way across his forehead.

What he's left with is hiding.

Anna must know something is up, because she's called him every day - sometimes several times a day - leaving increasingly angry messages on his answering machine. If she takes one look at Gabriel right now, he's pretty sure she's going to know. She knows him better than just about anyone these days, and she has insight into his relationship with Dean that no one else does.

Castiel won't know what's wrong, but he'll certainly know something is, and Gabriel can't handle his assessing eyes or his psychobabble BS right now.

The rest of Gabriel's friends probably wouldn't think twice of his current state of panic, but the amount of energy it would take to deal with any of them is not something Gabriel can achieve right now.

He can't even bring himself to do grocery shopping. Two weeks into the summer break, he runs out of even the bare minimum of staples in his kitchen, and instead of ducking into the corner market for milk and eggs, he begins ordering takeout three times a day.

Gabriel isn't exactly proud of his current life choices, but he just needs time. Time and a lobotomy, maybe, if that's something that would help him forget.

He doesn't anticipate the knock on his door when it finally comes, three sharp raps against the wood, but in hindsight, he's not surprised by it either. Nor is he surprised by the piercing blue eyes that sweep over him when he finally drags himself off the couch to open it.

One dark eyebrow wings up when Castiel sees the state Gabriel is in. "When was the last time you showered?" he asks, stepping past Gabriel into the apartment without bothering to wait for an invite he undoubtedly knows Gabriel isn't going to give. He's dressed in his usual attire, dark slacks and a dress shirt with a tie featuring cartoon characters that will get a smile out of his kids. Today's features Snoopy and Woodstock.

Gabriel makes it a point of not answering, but that's mostly because he can't remember. Which is a little perplexing, but not the end of the world like Castiel will inevitably try to make it. "I've been busy," he tries.

"I see." Castiel clearly doesn't believe him in the slightest. "I admit, when Anna called, I thought she must be exaggerating her concerns, but I can see that if anything, she downplayed them. What's going on, Gabriel?" Before Gabriel can open his mouth to tell his younger brother to shove it, Castiel holds up a hand. "Wait. Go take a shower, change your clothes. I'll get us some lunch. Then we can talk."

He sweeps back out the door, leaving Gabriel gaping after him. A long moment passes, and then, swearing to himself, Gabriel snatches a towel out of the linen closet and stomps into the bathroom.

*

Of course Gabriel has no intention of telling Castiel the truth, but the thing that makes Castiel such a great psychologist is that half the time you're opening up to him without even realizing you're doing it. He's not like the shrinks you see on TV, all "How does that make you _feel_?" or whatever. He just _listens_ , and by the time you realize what it is you're letting him listen to, it's too late and you've ruined your whole damn life.

"Dean Winchester is seventeen, yes?" Castiel asks, while Gabriel sits flushed and horrified with his hands clenched in his lap in the wake of his confession.

"Yes," he manages to grit out.

"So, he is over the age of consent in this state by a year's margin." Castiel is contemplating his grinder like it holds the secrets to the universe.

"Yes," Gabriel says again, closing his eyes. "But that -"

"Doesn't matter when you are his teacher, of course not," Castiel finishes easily. After a pause, he adds, "You have not been Dean's teacher in some time, correct?"

" _Castiel_ ," Gabriel growls, because he's had enough of this game, thanks very much.

Castiel's gaze finds his, and he looks apologetic. He reaches out and puts a hand on Gabriel's arm. "I'm sorry, brother. I don't mean to make light of the situation, and I do understand why it's...problematic."

Gabriel snorts. "Problematic? _Problematic?_ When did you become the king of understatement?"

"Gabriel." Castiel sighs. "I only mean that Dean likely knows his own mind. While I've never met him, I know you to be an excellent judge of character. From everything you've told me about his situation and what he's like, I don't believe he would ever feel in any way...coerced by you. Nor do I believe he's latched onto you simply because you are convenient and one of the few people he trusts. He just doesn't sound like the type. While that doesn't negate the seriousness of the situation, it should at least ease your mind a little, doesn't it?" At Gabriel's reluctant nod, he offers a small half-smile and squeezes Gabriel's arm. "Talk me through it. Tell me everything."

Gabriel does, going back to the first year he had Dean in his class, talking through the student/mentor relationship that developed than and continued into his sophomore year. He tells Castiel about the lunches that Dean started taking in his classroom, the way he stayed after school just to chat. He tells him about meeting Sam, and how much it meant when Dean told Sam that he was someone who could be trusted, if Sam ever needed an adult on his side and Dean wasn't around. He talked about the last year, and Dean opening up to Gabriel about his sexuality. He details the last few weeks of the year, and that final fateful afternoon, with Dean's confession, and the kiss that followed.

By the time he's done, it's somehow evening and his voice has gone hoarse and Gabriel can't remember the last time he talked so much for so long about _anything_ , even though that's basically his job description. He rubs a hand over his face and lifts his eyes to meet Castiel's.

Castiel has leaned back in his chair and his gaze is warm as he regards Gabriel. "You obviously care for him a great deal."

Flushing, Gabriel looks away. "I...well, yeah, sure I do, but I never...I wouldn't...I _never_ would have..." Except that's not even true, is it? He remembers the jealousy he felt when he caught Dean and another boy making out under the bleachers. He knew even then he was in far too deep, and he knew exactly how inappropriate it was.

"I know what you're thinking, Gabriel, because I know you. And before you continue down that path, I want to agree that no, you never would have. I _know_ that, and so do you, even if you're too determined to drown yourself in guilt to acknowledge it." Castiel sighs. "So the question is, what do you intend to do now?"

Gabriel runs his hands through his hair, staring up at the ceiling. That's a hell of a good question, isn't it? What the hell is he _supposed_ to do?

Okay, he knows the answer to that. He's _supposed_ to turn himself in to the school board. Or at the very least, he should resign, move very far away, and never have contact with Dean Winchester again for as long as he lives. Any decent person would do exactly that.

"I don't know," he mumbles. "And by the way, how can you condone this? In your line of work, you should be first in line to turn my ass in to the school board."

"I do _not_ condone this," Castiel says sharply...the first time he's almost raised his voice all day. "I will, however, justify and rationalize as much and as often as I can if it means not seeing my brother ruin his life." He spreads his hand. "If that makes me an accomplice, or a bad person, than so be it. You are my family, Gabriel, and while I do not condone this, I also don't believe you have truly done wrong. On my head be it if I'm mistaken."

Gabriel swallows hard around a lump he will never admit has lodged itself firmly in his throat. He has the greatest little brother in the world, and he never should have gotten him involved in Gabriel's mess. "Cas, I -"

"I'd like to meet Dean, I think," Castiel says, cutting Gabriel off in a way that must be deliberate. "Would that be possible?"

The only thing Gabriel feels capable of doing right now is gaping, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

Castiel nods. "Yes. If you can arrange it, I think that would be best. I can get a feel for the situation from his perspective. It would help, Gabriel. I think you and I would both feel better for having a professional opinion of all sides, yes?"

_No_ , Gabriel thinks, very loudly and with more than a little terror. He means to say it, too, means to tell Castiel that it would be better if they just forgot this conversation ever happened, and he can avoid Dean like the plague when school starts up again, and it won't be a problem at all, _really, Cas_. What comes out instead is, "Okay." He blinks, then curses at himself in three languages. "I mean -"

"Fantastic," Castiel says, gracing Gabriel with a smile that seems somehow _proud_ , and Gabriel knows, he _knows_ he just got played, and he can't even argue it because Castiel is annoyingly right about everything ninety-nine percent of the time.

"Fine," he mutters. "Fine, if that's what you think is best, then... _fine_ , great, whatever. I won't see him till school starts, but I'm sure I can figure something out then." And won't Dean just be _thrilled_.

He'll think about that, about the inevitable betrayal shining out of those green eyes, later.

Castiel nods. "All right," he says. Then his hand again finds Gabriel's arm, squeezing gently. "Things will be okay, Gabriel. I promise."

Gabriel thinks his brother needs to learn to not give promises away so easily. It never ends well for anyone. But instead of saying that, he simply nods and tries for something resembling a smile, even though it probably falls a couple miles short.

Points for effort, anyway, right?

*

July would probably pass in much the same way June did, except that once Castiel is aware of the problem, he bullies Gabriel into resuming his life by sheer force of will. No longer is Gabriel allowed to curl up on the couch and stare numbly at the television. Now, he has to answer texts or phone calls every morning, reassuring his brother that he is in fact still alive, and regaling him with tales of his plans for the day. Which has to be the most _boring_ thing in the world to listen to (and Gabriel knows from boring, okay, there are a couple mandatory history documentaries he's required to show his freshmen every year and he's suffered through them _a lot_ of times), but Castiel never complains.

And, of course, if Gabriel doesn't stick with those plans he outlines (most of which he makes up on the spot), Castiel always knows.

Always.

On the plus side, it means he has his first couple months of next year's lesson plans mapped out weeks before he usually does, and he has the first three exams for each of his classes already typed up and ready to go, _and_ he has real food in the house again.

The mess that his life turned into for a little while there slowly starts to lose the edge it had over him, and by the middle of the summer break, he can go whole hours at a time without thinking about it. About Dean.

Of course, it always comes flooding back at inopportune moments (like in his sleep, when he can't control the direction his thoughts take and he finds himself lost in the phantom sensation of skin on skin, of plush lips writing poetry along his body, of green eyes and pale skin and that faint, beautiful dusting of freckles...), but when he finally goes crawling to Castiel with that, he is assured that it is normal and should even be expected.

Castiel tells him it means nothing, that it's simply his mind's way of coping, and that this too will pass with time and distance.

Gabriel doesn't believe him, but he pretends.

By August, he thinks he’s doing pretty good, all things considered, and he’s found something resembling his usual contentment with summer vacation. Which is of course when the universe conspires to screw him over again, and throws Dean right in his path when he’s least expecting it.

It takes a minute for anything to even register beyond the buzzing in his ears and the dizzy sway of want that courses through Gabriel when confronted by those wide, surprised eyes. Dean’s already grinning by the time warning bells start going off in Gabriel’s head, and by then it’s too late.

“Well, damn, fancy seeing you here, Mr. Laufison,” Dean says, leaning back against his beloved Impala, arms crossed, too at ease with himself by half. _Has he not suffered?_ Gabriel wonders bitterly. _Has he even thought about what happened at all? Does he care even the slightest that he’s destroyed me on so many levels?_

“Mr. Winchester,” Gabriel replies, going for the same ease Dean is displaying and falling well short of the mark. “Even teachers need to eat, you know. We’re not actually vampires.” He glances over Dean’s shoulder at the bright lights of the grocery store, then meets Dean’s eyes again with a raised brow.

Dean laughs, and finally, _finally_ , Gabriel sees a bit of a flush to his skin. He reaches up, rubbing the back of his neck. “So, um. How’s your summer?”

Gabriel watches him for a long moment, staying silent for so long that Dean starts to squirm, which gives Gabriel a vicious rush of satisfaction. _Good_ , he thinks. _He should squirm_. But it’s hard, so damn hard, to hold onto that feeling when Dean is standing in front of him and Gabriel still cares too damn much about the kid for his own good. “Busy,” he finally relents, not entirely honestly. “You know. Making up for all that trouble I’m not allowed to get up to during the school year. How bout you? Got all your summer homework done?”

Dean rolls his eyes, but there’s an unhappy tilt to his mouth that Gabriel recognizes, making his heart give a slightly more painful thump behind his ribs. “Yeah, no, it’s cool. Got an essay done, and Sam’s all set, anyway.”

“You’re at your dad’s?” Gabriel asks, because as far as he’d known, that was never part of Dean’s plans for the summer.

Dean nods tightly. “Mom is out of town helping my grandfather, so. I’m just here for a couple days to grab the mail, pay the bills, water Mom’s plants. Then back to Dad’s.”

“Is there anything you guys need?” Gabriel asks, hesitating over the words, trying to phrase them carefully enough that Dean won’t get defensive.

“Nah, we’re good.” Dean shakes his head. “Anyway. I should…”

“Wait,” Gabriel holds a hand up, digging around in his pocket for a pen. He grabs Dean’s arm gently, before it even occurs to him why touching might be a bad idea right now. “If something…comes up,” he says, ignoring the way Dean’s widened eyes make his voice go rough. He uncaps his pen with his teeth and scribbles a phone number on the soft skin of Dean’s arm. It’s warm under Gabriel’s hand, and a few summer freckles stand out against the tan. One of them is trembling, and Gabriel can’t tell which of them it is. “If you or Sam need anything before you get back to your mom’s. You can call. Anytime.”

“I…” Dean swallows harshly. “Mr. L—Ga—“

“I have to go,” Gabriel says, stepping back quickly and hoping Dean doesn’t notice the flush to his cheeks. “You boys keep out of trouble, okay? Stay safe.” _I need you to be okay_.

Gabriel sketches a half wave, already turning and walking as quickly as he can into the safety of the store, too aware of Dean’s eyes following him the whole time. It’s not until Gabriel reaches the other side of the store that he allows himself to stop moving, leaning against the banana cart and closing his eyes as he tries to slow his breathing and his heart.

God, he’s in so much trouble.

*

Gabriel doesn’t think of it again. Or he tries not to, anyway. (At the very least, he pretends as hard as he can that he’s not thinking of it.) It’s not like he really thinks anything will come of giving his number to Dean; Dean Winchester is too stubborn by half and even if he did need help, the chances of him asking for it from anyone are lower than dirt.

The point is, when his phone rings past midnight two weeks later with an unfamiliar number, Gabriel isn’t really expecting anything but a wrong number, and he seriously considers ignoring it before better (if grumbling) sense prevails and he answers with a sleepy, “‘Lo?”

“Mr. Laufison?” The voice is tentative, and it takes Gabriel a long moment to place it in his sleep-induced haze. When he finally does, he goes cold and sits straight up.

“Sam?” he demands, his heart pounding. “What’s wrong, buddy?”

“It’s Dad,” Sam says, voice trembling. “There was an accident. He’s in the hospital, and Dean…um. Dean was there. With Dad. When the accident happened. He's hurt too, not as much, I don’t think, but. It’s. I’m not supposed to call but I didn’t know what to do and Mom is too far away and Grandpa’s in the hospital too so she can’t leave and Dean gave me your number in case of an emergency and–”

Gabriel is stuck on _he's hurt too_ , a phrase that made his heart miss a beat and his breath catch, but he tries damn hard for a reassuring tone when he speaks. “Okay. It’s okay, Sam.” Gabriel speaks softly as he stumbles out of bed and pulls on pants. “Where are you right now? What hospital?”

Sam rattles off the name of a hospital Gabriel doesn’t recognize, and when he pulls it up on his phone’s GPS, he sees that it’s about three hours away.

“Okay. Okay, Sam, can you hang tight there, buddy? I’m on my way now. It’s going to take me a few hours to get down there, but I’m on my way. If anybody comes to ask you questions, you tell them that, tell them who I am, and give them my number. You got that?”

There’s a small sniff on the other end. “Okay. Thanks, Mr. G. I’m…I’m really sorry for-”

“Hey now, none of that,” Gabriel says. “This is why I gave you boys my number, okay? This is exactly why. One more apology and I’ll make sure you spend the entire rest of your summer playing nothing but History Jeopardy, with no candy prizes.”

Sam huffs a small laugh. It feels like progress. “Okay, Mr. G. See you soon then.”

Gabriel hangs up, then spends a few precious moments contemplating his phone before giving a small, resigned sigh and dialing.

“Gabriel?” Castiel’s voice is raspy with sleep.

“Hey, bro. Sorry for the sleep interruption. Just wanted to give you a heads up, there’s kind of a situation.” He fills his brother in quickly. To his credit, Castiel doesn’t ask why the Winchesters had Gabriel’s number in the first place. Maybe he knows it was innocent. Maybe he just doesn’t _want_ to know if it wasn’t. Either way, it’s more words than Gabriel feels like speaking right now.

“You’re going there now?” Castiel asks.

“Yeah. Sam didn’t think Dean was badly hurt, but either way he’s by himself right now. I’m going to call Mary, their mom, too…she knows me, and she should know somebody’s gonna be there looking after Sam.”

Castiel _hmms_. “That seems wise. And I agree, Sam should not be alone while his family is in the hospital. He trusts you, and I feel that’s something he needs right now. Someone he trusts.”

Gabriel doesn’t know why it feels so good to hear Castiel agree with his course of action. Maybe just the fact that Castiel didn’t instantly accuse him of sticking his nose where it didn’t belong, or worse…going just to be closer to Dean. Maybe he needed that. Maybe that’s why he called – to know that Castiel believed in his good intentions, so that he could believe in them himself.

“Okay. I’m heading out now,” Gabriel says, throwing on his jacket and grabbing his keys.

“If you need anything, Gabriel, call me.” There’s a very slight emphasis on the word _anything_ that Gabriel decides not to examine too deeply.

“Course, bro. Thanks.”

He’s climbing into his car as he pulls up Mary Campbell’s contact. She answers on the first ring, and sounds just frantic enough that Gabriel’s pretty sure the hospital already contacted her.

“Hi, Mary, this is Gabriel Laufison.”

“Oh!” She releases a breath. “Mr. Laufison, hello.”

“Sam just called me, I wanted to let you know. I’m on my way there now to make sure he’s okay. I don’t know much about what’s going on, he just said there was an accident…” Gabriel trails off, hoping she’ll fill in a detail or four.

“God. There was. A hunting accident.” She practically spits the words out. “John…I don’t know what he was thinking. He _wasn’t_ thinking. Just another training cycle. I hated that I had to leave them there this summer, but my father…he’s not well. I didn’t have a choice.” She swallows. “I should have just left Dean in charge, let them stay home. They’re good kids, they wouldn’t have gotten into trouble, and he’s old enough. Anyway. Hunting. Something startled them out when they were out there. It was dark and John fell. Straight into a ravine and then into a large animal trap. Almost took off his whole damn foot, and hell if he wouldn’t have deserved it.” Her tone is vicious, and it’s something Gabriel can appreciate because he’s feeling the same, but has to be a little more professional. “As it is, while his bone was busy being shattered, the gun he was holding went off; the bullet hit Dean in the leg as he was trying to make his way down to help. God, what a damn mess.”

Gabriel sits in his car with his eyes squeezed shut tight against the scene she’s described. If that bullet’s trajectory had just been a little more in the wrong direction… “I’m sorry, Ms. Campbell. About your dad. And the situation. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through tonight.”

She clears her throat. “Thank you. I appreciate that. And you going all the way out there…that means the world to me. I know you’ve been such a help to Dean these last few years. I know you care about the boys. Dean told me you’d given him your number the last time we spoke, just in case they needed it, and I was so relieved. John is…” She trails off. “Well. He can rot in that damn hospital for all I care.”

Gabriel hesitates. “I don’t want to presume, but if the boys need a place to stay until you can make it back…”

Mary releases a sound that might be a sob. “Oh, god. Oh god, you have no idea what a _relief_ that would be. Are you sure? I know you must have other things going on…I’m working on sorting out care for my father here, but it may still be several days until I can get back. Not more than a week, I hope.”

“I’m sure,” Gabriel says firmly. “Dean can help me with lesson plans to keep him out of trouble, and Sam’s a good kid. I’ve got plenty of space.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” she says fervently. “I’ll call the hospital right now and let them know that Dean’s to be released into your care. He wasn’t hit anywhere vital, and they were talking about releasing him as quickly as tomorrow, maybe the next day if they decide he needs a bit more observation, but only if he had somebody to help him. He may have a difficult time moving for a couple weeks, and his wound will need to be properly dressed.”

“They’ll both be fine, Ms. Campbell. You have my word.” Promises aren't something Gabriel gives up easily, but this is one he knows he'll do anything to keep.

“Mary, please. And thank you. Sincerely. I was panicking, and I’m not any good to my sons _or_ my father in that state.” She releases a long sigh. “Thank you, Mr. Laufison.”

“Gabriel," he corrects. "And it’s really no problem at all.”

They hang up, and Gabriel takes a few deep breaths before starting the car and pulling slowly onto the road that will lead him to the exact person he’s been trying so damn hard to avoid.

*

Sam is clearly exhausted and fighting sleep when Gabriel walks into the waiting room at just past three o’clock in the morning, but he lights up when he sees him. His bookbag falls to the ground as he launches himself out of his chair and barrels into Gabriel. “Hi, Mr. G,” he says, the words muffled where they’re pressed into Gabriel’s arm.

“Hey, Sam,” he says, a little bemused because Sam has never seemed like a big hugger in his presence before. Then again, the kid’s been stuck in the hospital waiting room all night, and Gabriel’s starting to wonder just how he even got there. He’s only thirteen, and he must have been home alone while his brother and father were out…hunting. ( _Training_ , Mary had called it, and Gabriel can’t help but wonder _training for what?_ before deciding he probably doesn’t want to know.) “How you holding up?”

“M’okay. Mom called and said you were taking us home with you?”

“Yep,” Gabriel confirms, popping the ‘p’ a little. “Just as soon as your idiot brother gets the okay to escape. That cool with you?”

Sam nods emphatically, backing away and rubbing at his eyes suspiciously. “Dad’s gonna be here for a while, they think, but even if he wasn’t, I wouldn’t want—” He hastily quiets himself, flushing bright red.

“It’s okay, Sam. I get it.” Sort of. “Did you want to swing by your dad’s now, get some sleep? I can take you there. You look pretty beat, kid.”

Sam squares his jaw, lifting his chin a fraction as he steps back. “I want to stay here,” he says, because stubbornness is apparently a family trait. “I want to see Dean.”

“It may be a while before you can,” Gabriel warns. “They knocked him out to get the bullet out of his leg, and they’ll have him on some good drugs, I bet.”

Sam shakes his head. “Don’t care. I can wait.”

“Okay.” Gabriel concedes easily because he knows Dean, at least, well enough to know that there’s probably not going to be any changing his kid brother’s mind once it’s made up. “So whatcha got for fun around here?”

Sam’s mouth quirks in a very tiny smile, and he flops back into his chair and pulls out a couple books of Sudoku puzzles.

“Riveting,” Gabriel sighs, but takes a book and a pencil and starts doodling cartoon animals in the margins anyway.

He doesn’t wonder, _What am I doing here?_ and he definitely doesn’t think, _This is a bad idea._

*

Sometime around six o’clock, a nurse comes into the waiting room, giving a small smile when he sees Sam slumped against Gabriel’s shoulder, snoring slightly. “Finally knocked himself out, huh? Poor kid.”

“Yeah.” Gabriel doesn’t waste time on niceties. “How’s his brother doing?”

“Good! He’s awake…took him a little while to come out of it. But he’s awake now, and lucid, and asking to see Sam, although I don’t know if we should wa—”

“Hey, squirt,” Gabriel nudges Sam none-too-gently and Sam comes awake with a start. “Wanna see your brother?” Like he even needs to ask, when Sam is already nodding frantically and leaping out of his seat.

The bemused nurse leads them down the hall and into a sterile-looking room. Sam is already launching himself at the bed, but Gabriel hangs back, shoving his hands in his pockets and taking in the scene.

Hospital beds make everyone look small, and Dean is no exception. He looks paler, and there are circles under his eyes as he greets Sam with a cocky grin that does nothing to hide his relief. His right leg is clearly the one that got hit, because it’s bulky under the bed covers and he’s favoring it as he tries to twist his body into Sam’s hug.

The hospital band at his wrist makes him look more fragile than all those things combined, and Gabriel, who isn’t shaken by much, finds himself well and truly shaken. Which is of course when Dean’s eyes find his and go wide.

“Ga…Mr. Laufison?” he asks, his voice rough. “What are you…” He trails off, eyes going down to Sam, who’s still huddled in his arms, and he pokes his little brother roughly in the side, making him squirm. “You called?”

“What was I supposed to do?” Sam demands, pulling away and swiping angrily at his eyes. “Dad _shot_ you, and Mom couldn’t get here fast enough, and I heard the nurses making noises about calling social services because you and Dad were both gonna be here for _days_ , maybe, and there was no one else!”

Dean sighs, rubs a hand across his face. “You’re right. It was the right call, Sammy.” His eyes go back to Gabriel, who tries not to fidget. He is the adult here. He will _not_ fidget, damn it. “It’s good to see you, Mr. Laufison. Thank you, for coming.”

“Christ, kid, what else was I gonna do?” And now Gabriel steps forward in spite of himself, claps a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Dean eyes are searching Gabriel’s for something, and Gabriel has no idea what that something might be but hell if Dean doesn’t find it because he smiles, looking satisfied, and reaches up to clasp Gabriel’s hand in his for a brief ( _too brief, but too long, and too warm_ ) moment. “Means a lot anyway,” he says, soft in a way Dean rarely is.

Sam is pulling himself up onto the other side of the bed, and he pokes Dean as he says, “We’re staying with Mr. G when you get out of here, until Mom gets home.”

Dean stares at him for a few seconds and then turns his startled gaze back to Gabriel. He looks distinctly unnerves, and Gabriel has to fight not to smirk, filled with a vindictive sort of pleasure at that expression, after everything Dean has put him through this summer, knowingly or unknowingly.

Look, he never claimed to be a good person, all right?

So he shrugs, grinning, reveling a little in Dean’s discomfort. “Figure I can keep you two chuckleheads busy and out of trouble for a few days.”

But he clearly miscalculated, because Dean’s expression transforms rapidly, going first speculative, and then – horrifyingly – as close to _gleeful_ as Dean ever gets.

_Oh no,_ Gabriel thinks, guts squirming. Oh god, nothing good can come of this.

*

Mary, bless her soul, calls the hospital and convinces them, using methods Gabriel is sure he doesn’t want to know, to release Dena into Gabriel’s care sooner than they’d prefer. Gabriel has to swear up, down, and sideways to bring Dean back in the moment he spots any sign of infection or complications, which…duh. He’s able to reassure the doctor that both he and his brother have some basic medical training, and that he’s perfectly capable of making sure the wound is treated and dressed properly.

Dean is given a pair of crutches that he scowls at, but he uses them with minimal grumbling to go and see his father before they leave. Sam doesn’t go with him, and Gabriel carefully doesn’t mention it as they sit and wait for Dean to get back.

Gabriel knows that John is in rough shape – the bear trap clamped him at a bad angle, and it splintered the bone in a way his doctor doesn’t believe will ever heal right. And that’s assuming infection doesn’t set in, in which case, coupled with the complications from the injury itself, _could_ cause him to lose the foot.

Mary didn’t sound too broken up about it when describing this to Gabriel over the phone, and he can’t exactly say he blames her. He’s got his own rage simmering for the man, and it’s only by the grace of god (and a conscience that sounds eerily like Castiel) that he hasn’t walked into John’s room and decked him.

“I’m taking him back to court over custody rights,” she’d confided to Gabriel when they’d spoken that morning. “This has gone too far. Dean’s old enough to decide for himself if he wants to see his father, but I’m not letting this happen to Sam.”

Now, Gabriel watches Dean hobble back down the hall with a clenched jaw and hooded eyes, and he hopes the bastard never sets sight on his children again.

“Let’s go,” is the only thing Dean says when he reaches them, clamping an arm around Sam and pulling him in for a rough hug before he’s summarily dumped into the waiting wheelchair required to make an escape.

*

“Can I talk to you?” Dean asks in a low tone later that night, when Sam is busy watching some nature documentary in the den.

_No no no no bad idea alert alert!_ Gabriel’s brain screams at him.

Gabriel doesn’t listen, of course, although his heart starts engaging in some jackrabbit acrobatics when he jerks his head toward the kitchen.

Dean hesitates. “Uh, actually. I could use some help changing my bandage. If that’s cool. You don’t have to, or anything.”

Gabriel snorts. “What, and leave you to make a mess of it?” He ignores Dean’s grumbling at that and leads the way instead toward the master bathroom, where he stored all of the supplies the hospital gave him before they left. “Sit,” he says, pointing at the edge of the bathtub as he drags the supplies out.

Dean sits. “So…”

Gabriel glances over with a raised eyebrow as he washes his hands. “ _So?_ ” He draws the word out, making Dean flush.

There’s no enjoyment for Gabriel to find in the red staining Dean’s cheeks. _None,_ he tells himself, very firmly.

“I just.” Dean clears his through, hands clenching around the rim of the tub where he’s sitting. “You don’t, uh. The last day of school…you’re not mad? I mean, you don’t hate me, right?”

The harsh bark of laughter is released completely without Gabriel’s permission, as he shuts the water off. He clamps his hands on the sink and bends his head to avoid looking at Dean as he replies, “No. It’s safe to say _hate_ is not one of the many problematic emotions I associate with you, Dean.”

There’s a sharp inhale from the other side of the room, and Gabriel peers over to see Dean staring at him with wide green eyes. “Oh,” he breathes, and Gabriel’s knuckles are white as his fingers tighten on the sink.

“And it doesn’t matter because nothing is going to happen,” he says. He tries to make it sound firm. Doesn’t think he succeeds. “This can’t happen. You and I both know it. You get that, right?”

Dean doesn’t answer, which is probably answer enough, and Gabriel sighs. Takes a moment to steady himself, and then gathers the supplies and goes to kneel in front of his troublesome charge.

“We’re not going to talk about this,” Gabriel says. “And we’re not…we’re not…” He trails off, swallowing hard as his fingers brush the warm skin of Dean’s thigh, just under the line of his ragged cut-offs. Slowly, he peels back the hospital dressing to check the wound, and it’s harder, so much harder than it should be, not to get distracted by all that skin around it. “We’re not going to do anything about this,” he finally grits out. “This doesn’t exist. It’s a non-issue.” It hurts, looking at that bullet wound. Gabriel’s jaw clenches for reasons that have nothing to do with this conversation.

“Seems like kind of a big issue,” Dean says, and his voice is rough, muscles tense beneath Gabriel’s hand as he cleans and disinfects the wound.

Gabriel makes the mistake of looking up to glare and gets lost in the intensity of Dean’s gaze. His skin has a healthy tan that Gabriel missed in the harsh hospital lighting, and the freckles across his nose stand out even more after months of time spent out in the sun. Hell, everything about him looks warm and inviting and Gabriel has to clamp down on every single part of him that wants to reach out and touch everywhere.

This is not okay. This is lightyears outside of _okay_. God, to go back to last year, when he was too stupid to realize how much Dean was having an effect on him. When he was so wrapped up in helping the kid that he completely failed to realize he was having… _feelings_.

“Gabriel?” Dean’s voice is so quiet that it takes Gabriel a long moment to even realize he spoke…longer still to parse the name Dean called him by. Unfortunately, it takes no time at all to decide he could become addicted to the sound of his name on Dean’s tongue.

“Mr. Laufison,” he corrects quietly, because if he has a prayer of getting through this with his morals intact, that's a line he absolutely has to draw.

Dean regards him for a long moment before nodding once. “Okay then. Mr. Laufison.” He pauses, visibly gathering his thoughts. “We won’t talk about it now. I get it’s a bad time for it. But I’m not a kid, okay? I know what I want, and I know it's more than just a phase, or whatever. Eventually, we _are_ going to talk about it. We're going to have to.”

Gabriel sighs, placing the final touches on the new bandage and patting Dean’s knee as he stands. He hesitates, then, cursing himself seven times a fool, he leans over to brush a feather-light kiss across Dean’s forehead. It makes Dean’s breath hitch, and his eyes are very wide and very, very green in the bright bathroom lighting. “Eventually,” Gabriel murmurs. “Maybe. But not soon.”

He walks out, thinks he does a good job of hiding the tremble of his hands or the weakness in his legs. It’s a long time before he hears Dean grab his crutches and hobble out after him.

*

“My brother’s coming for dinner tonight,” Gabriel tells the boys the next morning over waffles. “Just a heads up. He’s good people. I promise he doesn’t bite.”

Sam grins at him through a mouthful of waffle and maple syrup. “Is he as cool as you are?”

Gabriel preens a little at a thirteen-year-old thinking he’s _cool_ , and pointedly ignores Dean’s snort. “Hardly,” Gabriel assures Sam. “Nobody can be all this, okay?” He does a sweeping gesture head to toe and smirks. “But he’s my bro. He’s helped me out a lot this summer, so if he wants to invite himself to food and scintillating conversation with a couple juvenile delinquents, I won’t be the one to deny him.”

“Cool,” Dean says with a shrug, poking at his own breakfast, gaze unfocused. “What’s he do, anyway? Family business? Teacher like you and Ms. Milton?”

“Nope.” Gabriel pauses to take a big bite before answering, with some relish, “Juvie psychologist.”

Dean’s gaze snaps up and he chokes on the piece of waffle he’d just taken a bite of. “Sorry, what?” he says through his coughing. Sam is rolling his eyes and snickering.

“Yeah.” He meets Dean’s gaze frankly. “He’s actually pretty interested in meeting you guys. He’s heard a whole bunch about my favorite Winchesters.”

Dean swallows, staring at Gabriel like he’s trying to psychically ask him if Gabriel means what Dean thinks he means. Gabriel gives a subtle nod, looking away. Not worth lying about it – Dean’s not an idiot, and he’s going to pick up on Castiel’s subtle probing either way.

“ _Shit,_ ” Dean hisses under his breath.

Sam kicks him from underneath the table with a whispered, “ _Language_ , you idiot,” then turns to whisper conspiratorially to Gabriel, “Dean’s scared of shrinks.”

Dean kicks him back, then goes right back to staring morosely at his breakfast without even bothering to defend himself.

Later, when they’re at the sink washing dishes and Sam is at the table reading a book, Gabriel says lowly, “If it helps, talking to him was way more about me than about you, Deano. Cas isn’t going to judge you. I promise.”

Dean glances at Gabriel from the corner of his eyes. Glances _down_ , because this close, Gabriel realizes just how much taller Dean’s gotten than him in the last couple years. It makes him feel a funny fluttery sensation in the pit of his belly that he swears he doesn’t like and definitely doesn’t trust. “He shouldn’t judge you, either,” Dean says.

_Oh yes, he should._

*

When Gabriel opens the door to his brother that evening, he’s fixed with a cool blue stare and a slow head-shake that speaks volumes of Castiel’s feelings on the entire situation. “You know,” Castiel says, all but growling the words, “when I said I’d like to meet Dean Winchester, I didn’t expect you to go to such lengths to arrange it.”

“Cute, Cas,” Gabriel snarks, rolling his eyes.

Castiel’s voice lowers so they can be sure only Gabriel is the one to hear it as he takes a step into the house. “This is a terrible idea and you know it. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that two kids I care about had nowhere else to go and no one else to depend on. I was _thinking_ that I was perfectly capable of controlling my hormones and providing a safe space for them until their mom could get home. Why, Cas, what do you _think_ I was thinking, huh?” Gabriel glares at him, but Castiel doesn’t back down.

“I’m sure it’s exactly as you say,” Castiel concedes after a long moment, because he really is the best brother, even when Gabriel doesn’t deserve it. “That doesn’t make it a good idea.”

“Yeah, well.” Gabriel shrugs because he doesn’t have a good argument for that. “If there had been any other halfway decent options, I’d have gone for them. Anyway. Welcome to Casa di Laufison. We made lasagna, because I know it’s secretly your favorite. Definitely wasn’t trying to score brownie points, don’t give me that look. Anyway, Sam helped with the salad. Dean helped with the taste testing.”

Finally, Castiel’s lips quirk in an almost-smile as he hangs his coat and steps fully inside. “Whatever my feelings on everything else, it’s good to see you back to your usual self, Gabriel,” he says.

“Don’t know what you mean,” Gabriel mumbles, leading the way into chaos of the kitchen. “Yo, Thing 1 and Thing 2! This is my younger brother, Dr. Novak. Cas, Dean and Sam Winchester.”

“Pleasure to meet you both,” Castiel says, reaching out a hand first to Dean and then Sam. “Please, call me Castiel. I’m only Dr. Novak to my patients, and I’m sure we’d all like to avoid what my brother terms ‘psychobabble’ tonight.”

“God, yes,” Dean mutters, then flushes to the roots of his hair when Castiel smiles at him.

Dinner itself could be awkward, but Castiel is a master. He keeps the conversation light and the questions gentle, focusing as much on the younger Winchester as on the elder. None of his questions _seem_ invasive, though Gabriel knows his technique well enough to know he’s getting something out of them.

Maybe just a relaxed audience, Gabriel realizes, marveling when Dean starts talking about his dad without any prompting whatsoever.

“Sure, he’s kinda tough,” Dean says through a mouthful of garlic bread. “Marines, you know. S’what he wants me to do…still angry I didn’t go into ROTC, that Mom didn’t force me to when he told her to.”

_Training_ , Gabriel thinks, a few puzzle pieces clicking together in his brain.

“That’s a lot of expectation,” Castiel notes, deliberately not looking at Dean and instead focused on cutting into his second piece of lasagna.

“I mean, maybe.” Dean shrugs. “But it keeps him focused on me, since Sammy wants nothing to do with any of it either. And it’s not so bad. He can’t make me do anything once I’m eighteen. I already got a plan, and it doesn’t involve taking orders from military creeps who think they’re so much better than me. Anyway, the gay thing would probably suck hardcore in the marines.” Which is when he suddenly realizes how much he’s been talking and sucks in a startled breath, eyes going shuttered, darting frantically around the table. “Um.”

“Breathe, champ,” Gabriel says. “You’re among friends here.”

Dean glares, first at him, then at Castiel, and pointedly ignores Sam snickering at him, as usual. “You,” he says, pointing his fork at Castiel. “You are scary good at your job. That’s sneaky, dude.”

Castiel fixes him with wide, guileless eyes. “I don’t understand what you--”

“Save it,” Dean says. “I’m onto you.” He still looks shaken, but only in the sort of way someone who knows him well (or is trained) would recognize. And he’s doing a hell of a job holding it together. Slowly, praying Castiel doesn’t notice, Gabriel moves his foot across the floor underneath the table, tapping Dean’s sneaker with his toe. When Dean’s eyes meet his, he offers what he hopes is a reassuring look. Dean ducks his head, but his mouth are quirking up a little at the corners when he does.

And the side of his foot brushes up against Gabriel’s ankle before Gabriel forces himself to move away.

Gabriel doesn’t blush. He _doesn’t_.

“I apologize, I certainly didn’t intend to pry,” Castiel says, the liar. But he looks so sincere and genuinely apologetic that it seems even Dean finds it impossible to be mad at the guy, because he just shrugs and mumbles, “S’cool.” Castiel hums a little, then says, “I admit though, now you’ve got me curious about your future plans, if they don’t involve the military.”

“Oh…” Dean clears his throat, playing with his food for a moment. “It’s. I dunno. Might not happen, it’s more school than anyone expects from me. But I want to be a social worker.”

Gabriel’s eyebrow wings up, because that’s new information to him, too, but damn if he can’t see it.

“That’s a commendable and worthwhile goal,” Castiel says. “And one I wish more people considered as a career option.”

Dean nods. “Yeah. When Mom and Dad split, me and Sammy had to deal with them some. The lady in charge of our case, Missouri…she was pretty cool. She made it better, as much as she could. She gave a damn, you know? I like the idea of helping other kids like that.”

That seems to be as much as Dean is willing to say, either on the subject or on himself, and Castiel deftly directs the conversation back to Sam.

Gabriel spends most of the rest of dinner watching Dean, who, in spite of the uncharacteristic way he revealed so much about himself in such a short period of time, looks more at ease in his own skin that Gabriel's seen in a long time.

*

“So,” Gabriel says, walking his brother to the door later the night while Sam and Dean tackle kitchen clean-up. “Not what you’d expect, huh?”

“On the contrary.” Castiel gives a little huff of laughter, but it’s not the happy kind of laughter. He looks tired. And worried. “He’s exactly what I’d expect. It would take a special soul to tempt you, Gabriel, because despite what you think of yourself, you _are_ a good person. And it’s been a very long time since I’ve seen you show the slightest bit of attraction to anyone, after Kali –”

“Don’t,” Gabriel cuts in. It comes out sounding exhausted. _That_ is a thing he won't discuss and never wants to think about again.

Castiel acquiesces with a nod, clearing his throat. “Anyway, as I was saying, Dean is…something special. Anyone can see it. He’s intelligent, capable, resourceful. Stubborn, which is a quality necessary to most of the people you let into your life. Mature beyond his years, certainly.” He sighs, his eyes far away as he considers his next words. “If he were a few years older…” He trails off before he can say, _he’d be perfect for you,_ and instead offers, “I can see now why you’re falling for him.”

Gabriel wishes he didn’t look so damn _sad_ about it, but hell, it’s not like he can disagree. He remembers when Castiel told him that time and distance would help him overcome this. He'd never believed it, and he doesn't dare ask if Castiel still does.

The whole conversation leaves him feeling jittery and restless, the comfort and companionship of the evening dissipating like mist in the wake of the acknowledgement that, yeah, he is falling. He’s falling hard, after promising himself all summer that he’d be able to let this go.

He doesn’t ask Castiel what he should do, because frankly, he doesn’t think Castiel has any more answers about that than he does, and even if he does, Gabriel doesn't think he's ready to hear them.

*

The next few days pass with a refreshing lack of drama and/or further exploration of _feelings_ , and when Mary calls on Saturday evening to say she’s back in town, it’s as much of a relief as it is (in the deepest darkest corners of Gabriel's brain that he never admits exist) a let-down.

Sam greets his mother with a hug like he’s trying to squeeze the life from her, and then turns to Gabriel to grant him the same treatment. "Thanks for everything, Mr. G," he says.

Gabriel ruffles his hair and grins at him. "Anytime, Sam. Do me a favor and don't lose my number, okay? Just in case you ever need it again."

"Okay," Sam promises with a small smile, before grabbing up his backpack and heading for the car.

"Hey, Mom," Dean says softly, and envelopes her in a hug of his own. When he pulls away, Mary's eyes are shining, and Gabriel wonders how common hugs like that are from her eldest son. Probably not very, he muses.

"I'm so glad to see you, baby," Mary sighs. "I'm sorry it took so long." She meets Gabriel's eyes. "I really can't thank you enough, Gabriel. This was so above and beyond the call of duty."

"Not at all," Gabriel waves it off. "I'd do it again no problem. Your kids are a delight to have around. And it gave me a chance to get to know Sam a little more before he has to suffer through my class.

She laughs, then asks Dean if he's ready to go.

"Yeah, um…" Dean's patting his pockets down, looking around like he's searching for something. "Damn, I left my wallet in the guest room. Give me a minute? I'll meet you out at the car."

"Sure, honey," Mary says.

She says her goodbyes to Gabriel and heads out to wait with Sam, and then he finds himself abruptly alone with Dean. Who smiles, looking sheepish.

_Sneakier than I gave him credit for,_ Gabriel thinks over his suddenly pounding heart. Not good, this is _not good_ …

But he's already following Dean upstairs and into the guest room, where the black leather wallet is laying innocuously in plain sight on the night stand, clearly left there deliberately, considering he'd have had to purposely ignore it while going for his keys and cell phone.

"Got everything now?" Gabriel asks, leaning against the doorjamb and crossing his arms.

"Yeah, think so. Except…" Dean trails off, fidgeting. Dean Winchester never seems to fidget more than when he's around Gabriel. It's…something. Something that shouldn't be as enjoyable as Gabriel finds it.

"Except…?" he prompts, completely and totally in spite of himself, ignoring all the sirens going off in his head because _he's not an idiot,_ damn it, except when he apparently is.

Dean takes a hesitant step towards him, then another one, more sure, when Gabriel doesn't move. And then a third, putting him nearly all the way in Gabriel's space, and the only damn thing Gabriel can do is tilt his head and meet Dean's eyes.

He should be stopping this. It's not like Gabriel doesn't know it. But he's frozen in place as Dean lifts a hand to cup Gabriel's cheek, thumb brushing the side of his mouth. He's aware only in a peripheral sort of way that his breathing has sped up, his heart flopping all over the place, but it's like he's outside of himself as Dean gently tilts his head up ad leans down, stopping a hair's breadth from Gabriel's mouth. Waiting. _Asking_.

And hell if it's not Gabriel himself who moves that last fraction of an inch, pressing his mouth to Dean's in a way he'll never be able to pretend isn't a kiss, a kiss _he_ initiated.

It’s over in a heartbeat, but it lasts an eternity. And then Dean is pulling away with a quiet sigh, leaning his forehead against Gabriel's as they both try to steady themselves. Outside, the car horn beeps, and it should be startling, but Gabriel's only dimly aware of it.

"This isn't going to go away," Dean says into this strange quiet bubble they've created.

"I know." Gabriel's never been more sure of anything. He thinks the knowledge could ruin him. It feels like it might.

"I don't want to ignore it."

Gabriel huffs. "Of course you don't. You're seventeen." But then he sighs, moving back, shaking his head. He can't meet Dean's eyes. "You're going to have to, Dean. For my sake. _Please_."

"Till graduation," Dean says, and it's a far easier acquiescence than Gabriel would have expected. Which means Dean understands exactly how serious this is.

Of course he does.

Gabriel still hesitates. Putting a timeline on it is a promise in and of itself, one he's not sure he's ready to commit to. But… "Till graduation. Then…then we can talk."

Dean's smile is as bright and as devastating as sunshine in high summer.

He doesn't kiss Gabriel again, thank god. And he pointedly doesn't say goodbye as he clambers back down the stairs and to the car, though he does turn back for long enough to give Gabriel one last smile and a wave as Gabriel closes the door.

He leans his head against the cool wood as he hears the car start and then the crunch of wheels on pavement as it backs onto the street and away from Gabriel's house.

In a week and a half, the new year will start. Sam will be a freshman in Gabriel's ninth grade history class. Dean will be a senior, with all the trials and tribulations that will bring.

Graduation is in two hundred and eighty-seven days.

Gabriel has no idea how he'll survive it.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, there is a plan for Detention: Senior Year. Yes, I plan for it to be written faster than this installment was. Not that that's saying much. /o\


End file.
